


known melodies

by geguri (lgbtksoo)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, Drift Compatibility (Pacific Rim), Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mending Relationships, Minor Injuries, No Pacific Rim Knowledge Needed, Silent Acts of Love, Sparring, homoerotic sparring turned homoerotic slow dancing, how to confess your love without ever saying the word "love"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 01:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30047730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lgbtksoo/pseuds/geguri
Summary: In retrospect, it’s amazing how quickly both he and Soonyoung acclimatized themselves to the narrow, grey corridors of the Hong Kong Shatterdome. Life still goes on.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi & Lee Chan | Dino
Comments: 14
Kudos: 64





	known melodies

**Author's Note:**

> if you've never seen pacific rim, please don't worry! in fact, it might even be better that way because i definitely took some liberties with the pacific rim world, and i conveniently ignored its canon timeline (and the whole defunding of the jaeger program plotline). so sorry if i butchered the world jsdfjsfd
> 
> in case it's helpful, though, **here is a brief primer on pacific rim** : huge alien monsters called 'kaiju' rise from a rift in the pacific ocean and leaves a trail of destruction in its midst. humanity holds its own against kaijus by building massive mecha called "jaegers" to fight these monsters. in order to pilot jaegers, you must 'drift' with someone else because it's too much for a single person to bear -- and drifting basically means you fully open a channel between the two minds. the other pilot feels your feelings, experiences your reactions, access your memories. you can only pilot with people you are "drift compatible" with.
> 
> lastly, i wanted to give a shoutout to both hui ([dimsum on ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimsum/))'s pacific rim au **[here](https://17hols.dreamwidth.org/4307.html?thread=137171#cmt137171)** and karina ([softlees on ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlees))'s pacific rim au **[here](https://17hols.dreamwidth.org/4307.html?thread=141523#cmt141523)**. they're both for 17hols on dreamwidth and deserve so much love and attention. i highly recommend both these fics! please go read them!

`February 8, 2021`

> _”...broke through the disputed waters of the South China Sea, just shortly after 3 p.m. Mark IV Korean Jaeger Lilili Yabbay was deployed to counter the Category II Kaiju’s path, emerging just in time to save a police vessel from destruction. The Jaeger initiated combat to prevent the Kaiju from making land onto Lantau Island...”_
> 
> _“...During battle, Lilili Yabbay quickly gained the upper hand through several well-timed strikes to the Kaiju’s head, rendering it off-balance. The final blow was delivered with the use of Lilili Yabbay’s energy weapon. The Kaiju was defeated at 5:02 p.m...”_
> 
> _“...According to the Pan Pacific Defense Corps spokesperson, no injuries were sustained by Rangers Kwon Soonyoung and Lee Chan...”_
> 
> _“...Sources say damages to military convoys in the South China Sea are estimated at $6,100 Hong Kong Dollars...”_
> 
> _“...The Kaiju remains unnamed at the time of this report...”_

  


* * *

  
There’s a sudden knock at the door. Wonwoo turns around to see Soonyoung standing there, a hand on his hip as he leans against the door, his hair damp and messy from his quick shower. The collar of his thin t-shirt sticks to Soonyoung’s skin. A bead of water slides down the column of his neck, slowly, gently. 

_”...known as two of the best Rangers in the Asia-Pacific region, Kwon Soonyoung and Lee Chan graduated from the Jaeger Academy in 2019...”_

Wonwoo shuts the radio off. He drags his eyes back up Soonyoung’s face and huffs out a small laugh when he finds a scrunched-up look of embarrassment on Soonyoung’s features. It’s a look that always makes Soonyoung look infinitely younger. “Your face is going to get stuck like that,” Wonwoo teases him.

“Can’t you listen to something else when you work?” Soonyoung grumbles, his voice pitching into a whine. He straightens up and steps into the office. The sound of footsteps fill the room as Soonyoung comes up behind Wonwoo’s chair while he studies the volumes of paper, precarious stacks of books, post-it notes, and miniature Jaeger models that litter the room. There’s always a hint of wonder in Soonyoung’s eyes whenever he visits Wonwoo’s office, as if he hasn’t been here thousands of times before. 

Wonwoo saves the maintenance notes on _Lilili Yabbay_ before he exits out of the database. “You know I like white noise,” he says, and puts his computer to sleep, “It’s not my fault you’re out there being this great big superhero and getting constant news coverage.” 

“Shut up.” Soonyoung jabs an elbow into Wonwoo’s side, but quickly soothes the sore spot with his fingers when Wonwoo lets out a wince. “It’s just embarrassing!” Soonyoung works his mouth into a pout. “You already know what happened anyway. You were _there_.”

There’s a lot that Wonwoo could say. He could tell Soonyoung that it’s comforting to hear all the different ways that he’s _okay_ , that he’s safe, or that there’s always going to be that part of him that rears with pride at another one of Soonyoung’s hard-fought victory, or even that there’s a smaller, insidious part of him that’s masochistic. A part that insists, even in spite of the way his chest twinges with the ghostly ache of envy, on listening to renditions and rhapsodies of how Soonyoung and Chan have become two of the most legendary co-pilots of their cohort.

It’s all the truth. Wonwoo does it, because love can make anyone a masochistic fool, and he has long since accepted that part of himself.

“Come on,” Wonwoo says instead and stands up from his office chair. He nearly rolls over Soonyoung’s foot in the process, and he laughs out an apology. The moment Wonwoo puts away his remaining files into his desk drawers, he feels the familiar touch of Soonyoung’s pinky, much smaller than his own, loop around Wonwoo’s. 

At the touch, something in his heart settles and the tension releases from his body. He catches Soonyoung’s gaze, and it’s complete instinct when he scans him over from head to toe, his eyes tracing over Soonyoung’s familiar mop of black hair, his endearingly round cheeks, the loose and easy way he holds his body; elegance and coiled power compact underneath lithe muscles and long limbs. No bruises, no lacerations. When he walks, Soonyoung doesn’t wince nor does he favour one side more than the other this time.

He’s okay. Wonwoo breathes out, a breath he holds each time. His smile comes easy this time. “Come on,” he repeats, “you must be hungry now.” 

Soonyoung’s used to it, and even if he wasn’t, he’s known Wonwoo long enough to catch the worry that flashes across his features. They have long moved past the point of needing to verbalize their thoughts to one another. “Yeah,” he agrees easily, and his mouth tugs up into a small smile. “Let’s go. Chan’s waiting for us in the canteen.”

Their pinkies are still linked, a silent ritual between them after every time Soonyoung comes back from an attack, and a gesture of love from Wonwoo. Together, they head out of the J-Tech headquarters and through the narrow corridors of the Shatterdome, until they reach the canteen. 

It’s only there that they finally let go.  


* * *

  
The canteen is always at its busiest around dinner time. The buzz of people drops slightly as they push the door open, pausing to see who’s entered, only to resume as everyone returns to their own meals and conversations. Nestled in the corner of the room, Wonwoo spots their friends. 

“Baked pork chop rice today,” Yerim, one half of _Velvet Fury_ , whispers to him excitedly as they near the table. Her other half doesn't seem to be at the table. “Seriously, so fucking good.”

Soonyoung pushes down at his shoulder until Wonwoo sits, and goes to fetch them both a tray of food each. The golden bed of cheese that blankets the pan-fried pork chop is incredibly enticing after a long work day, and the aroma of egg fried rice wafts deliciously through the air. Wonwoo’s mouth waters. 

“I’ve missed Cantonese food so much,” Junhui says with a sigh. Next to him, Chan is scarfing down his food like he hasn’t eaten in days—he’s always particularly hungry whenever he and Soonyoung are deployed during a Kaiju attack. “I wish they served it more often in the canteen. Less— _white people_ food.” 

Wonwoo pours a glass of water and pushes it closer to Chan. He eyes him, half-expecting him to choke on his next bite of food. 

Soonyoung echoes Jun’s sigh. “I miss kimchi. I just want kimchi. Then I’m good.” 

“Maybe we can ask my grandma to send some canned kimchi over in the next care package,” Chan offers, washing down a bite of rice with a gulp of water. “Thanks, Wonwoo-hyung.” 

A contemplative look flashes across Joohyun’s face. She bats away Yerim’s hand when she tries to steal one of her pork chops. “Maybe we can request for ingredients to make kimchi ourselves. Would they let us?”

“Probably not,” Yerim says, even as her eyes twinkle mischievously, “Maybe Seungkwan and Vernon on the K-Science team can hide it in the lab. No one will notice another jar amidst jars of Kaiju matter, right?”

Chan wrinkles his nose. “Ew. No thanks. I’m just going to ask my grandma.”

“I’ll take canned kimchi over no kimchi,” Soonyoung says, wistful as he leans his head onto Wonwoo’s shoulder. Wonwoo holds himself very, very still. From this proximity, he can just faintly smell the citrus scent of Soonyoung’s shampoo. A warmth begins in the base of his chest.

Junhui continues his rant amidst their chatter. “Back in the _old_ days, I used to take the metro to Hong Kong with my mom. I’d love for the beef brisket noodle soup in Yau Ma Tei.” He pauses. “I wonder if the owners are still around...”

Silence elapses between them. That’s always the hangup with discussing the _old_ days. The days before the first Kaiju attack, before cities and homes were destroyed, and familial memories and cultural relics were lost to a cyclical gyre of destruction. Wonwoo hasn’t been back home since the Seoul attack in 2017, and neither has Soonyoung. There’s nothing to return to for them. 

“I miss my mom’s kimchi,” Soonyoung says after a few moments. He shifts until he can peer up at Wonwoo with a baleful gaze, cheek still pressed against his shoulder. “Wasn’t it the best, Wonwoo?” 

The warmth spreads through Wonwoo’s body, makes his heart pound a little faster with both mournful nostalgia, and a stranger feeling that he doesn’t always dare name. He thinks back to the years when they spent together as children, when they did things like Jun had done—took the train, watched movies at the theatres, ate at restaurants, visited each other’s homes. He still remembers the night light that Soonyoung’s dad had installed next to the closet, shaped like the moon. “Yeah,” Wonwoo says, quietly, “yeah, it was the best.”  


* * *

  
`May 25, 2017. Present. Future.`

They did not come to Seoul. _Come_ is too gentle of a verb. _Coming_ suggests a pause, an approach, a choice to arrive, maybe even an announcement. No, they did not come. They appeared.

One by one, two by two, they appeared in droves around the world; a relentless tsunami attack weathered worse by all those that neighboured the wretched sea. Only one in Seoul, but one is enough. One is enough, especially when it makes it onto land. 

Wonwoo remembers it well—how it was the height of afternoon, and neither Soonyoung nor Wonwoo were home because they were busy skipping classes in favour of the arcade. The sound of _Need for Speed_ and the twinkling jingle of the _purikura_ machines nearly drowned out the noise for a second, and by then, it was already too late to return home. 

Home became dust from crushed buildings, dust clinging to their hair and skin and clothes, dust that Wonwoo thinks he never could fully wash off, not even now. It’s funny, he associates the first Kaiju in Seoul with _dust_ when it came from water. 

It turns out that even as life, as you know it, ends irrevocably and decisively—it still goes on. Even when your home is no longer your home, even when things fall apart. 

When Wonwoo was young, he used to contemplate the changing of the ginkgo leaves outside his family’s apartment, sprouting right in between his bedroom window and Soonyoung’s; from lush green to burnished gold to a fragile brown that eventually splinters and falls to the ground. The ephemerality of life. 

But at least those leaves, although no longer attached to the tree, were not lost. He and Soonyoung used to sweep them up and press them between the glossy pages of their textbooks, lost memories that were picked up and preserved through time. 

Wonwoo hasn’t seen that tree in years now. It was destroyed when the Kaiju attacked, along with the rest of the apartment complex. He hasn’t seen a single ginkgo tree in many, many years. 

In retrospect, it’s amazing how quickly both he and Soonyoung acclimatized themselves to the narrow, grey corridors of the Hong Kong Shatterdome. Life still goes on.  


* * *

  
`June 3, 2018.`

After nearly a year of Jaeger Academy, Wonwoo has learned to feel at home in the Kwoon Combat Room. Even more familiar yet is the narrowed gaze of Soonyoung across the mats, his wiry arms tensed in a way that betrays the impassivity of his face and the loose grip on his staff. Wonwoo sweeps his gaze over him. Soonyoung’s posture is perfect: his right palm faces away from the body and the left hand faces inwards. 

Wonwoo weighs the staff in his own hands. His bare toes curl into the soft padded give of the mats that line the training room. The pounding of his heartbeat is thunderous in his ears, but he’s learned to drown it out now.

Their eyes catch and hold. The air is nearly electrifying as the coaches, PPDC officers, Neural Bridge Analysts, and their fellow cohort from the academy watches them from the sides of the room. Between them, they exchange a look of silent understanding, and a sense of calm settles over him as he focuses on nothing but Soonyoung himself. His limbs feel loose and limber, the staff light in his hands, ready to move with his guidance and strength. More than anything, he is aware of Soonyoung—of his body, how he holds himself, can practically see the thoughts filtering through his head, and he _waits_ , stance widening as they both slide their left feet back—

—and then Soonyoung strikes, a flurry of sharp movement as he swings his staff towards him. It’s nothing but to initiate their little dance together, Wonwoo knows, and it takes nothing but a breath from him to block. The crack of sound of wood colliding together, a parry, and a spinning swing as Wonwoo presses forward in rebuttal. 

Soonyoung changes grip on his staff as he dodges out of the line of fire. He blinks, and Wonwoo spins back to raise the staff up to his face in a hurry, because that’s Soonyoung’s foot hurtling straight for his jaw, pointed just like a ballet dancer; a remnant of their childhood. He parries in time—but then feels the tip of the wooden staff against his waist. 

“One,” Soonyoung says, almost too soft for the rest of the room to hear. “I thought you said you were ready, Jeon Wonwoo.”

Warmth blossoms in his chest and spreads out all over. In a blink of an eye, Wonwoo twirls his staff and strikes at Soonyoung, who catches the attack easily. With the momentum of his swing, he presses Soonyoung off-balance and sends him toppling to the ground with a grunt of surprise. 

Wonwoo leaves the tip of his staff as a kiss to Soonyoung’s neck. “One,” Wonwoo echoes. A point to him. The corner of his lips tug into a smirk. “I _am_ ready, Kwon Soonyoung.”

The wide-eyed look of surprise on Soonyoung’s face sends another thrilling jolt down Wonwoo’s spine. His breath catches in his throat when an answering smile curls at Soonyoung’s lips, bright and beautiful and fierce. Soonyoung’s eyes narrow, catlike in its focus.

His own smile widens as he extends a hand out to Soonyoung. There’s no hesitation from Soonyoung before he takes Wonwoo’s hand. Using the staff to brace both their weights, Wonwoo pulls him up.

Half a step, and they resume. Point after point after point, the fight continues on in an impossible, perfect dance. It’s a rapid series of strikes and counterstrikes, feints and quick dodges, Wonwoo dashes forward and Soonyoung pivots back, light on his feet and instinct running through each move before their brains react. Wonwoo can read every move of Soonyoung’s like it’s choreographed just for him—but it’s no different for Soonyoung either. 

In the back of his mind, Wonwoo is distantly aware of the murmurs and cheers of the other students as they spar, and the weight of their mentors’ assessing eyes on them, but they register as nothing more than white noise. The peripheries of the room fade away. His brain hears nothing but the sounds of their breath pushing hard past their lips, the squeaks of the mat beneath their feet, the thud of wood on wood. 

It takes a cease to be called for either of them to falter. Wonwoo pauses, his staff pointed down against Soonyoung’s flank. 

Soonyoung’s staff rests against Wonwoo’s shoulder.

Slowly, the noise of the Kwoon Combat Room filters back into his senses. His breath comes out in heavy pants, mirrored in equal parts by Soonyoung. For a second, he can’t look away from Soonyoung, from the brilliant glint in his eyes and the slight tremble on his lips; the thrill of challenge sends shivers down his spine, a fire that burns up his gut. 

And then Soonyoung smiles, so pure and unrestrained in its joy that Wonwoo can’t tamp down the curve of his own lips. His eyes track the movement of Soonyoung’s wrist, elegant in its motion, as he dabs at the sweat beading down his forehead. “Nice job, Jeon.” 

A flash of teeth. His heart sings in his chest. “You too, Kwon,” says Wonwoo. 

Wonwoo had never been much of a fighter when they were younger. Neither had Soonyoung, despite his hothead and his taekwondo training, too gentle in all the ways they counted. But there’s no denying the thrill here; the thrill of being matched up together, the thrill of undoubtedly being _drift compatible_.

They made a promise to each other when they first arrived at the Shatterdome, and Wonwoo is going to keep it. Him and Soonyoung, they’re going to become the best co-pilots that the academy has to offer.  


* * *

  
`September 24, 2019`

“What’s it like,” Wonwoo asks Minghao one day, when curiosity gets the better of him, “to drift with Mingyu?”

He doesn’t look at Minghao as he rolls the question out into the air between them, his eyes trained on the neural interface of _Bright Star_ , the Mark IV Jaeger that Minghao and Mingyu co-pilot. Normally, Mingyu would be there to follow up on maintenance on their Jaeger—but he’s been recuperating in the infirmary with a broken leg after their last battle. 

The weight of Minghao’s eyes on him are heavy and assessing. Wonwoo does his best to ignore it as a moment of silence stretches out between them. Minghao has always been sharp, deliberate in his words and actions, concise where Mingyu is clumsy, though both well-meaning all the same. 

What Wonwoo knows about the drift is this: it’s about opening yourself up, offering yourself, exposing yourself in your entirety to the most vulnerable state of possibility as you give up your mind to someone else. The drift isn’t just about connection, not just about intimacy—but fragmenting yourself into disintegratable pieces that allows you to free fall into someone else’s mind. 

Your co-pilot isn’t just anyone. Even if you met them through the algorithm—if you’re drift compatible, they will come to know you just as well as you know yourself. Maybe more. The drift allows them barrier-less accessibility to your thoughts and memories; it’s a lot to give up to someone else. 

But everything that Wonwoo has learned about the drift has been hearsay, anecdotes, the cobbled textbook from his academy days when he still clung to the hope that one day, he would be a co-pilot alongside the most important person in his world. 

In the academy, the mentors would just say that it takes “trust.” Wonwoo has since learned that trust can only take you so far, when the entire Jaeger system hinges on how well two people could meld and amalgamate into one mind to command their Jaegers. The drift is _everything_. 

“There’s this word in Chinese,” Minghao begins at last, his words halting and careful, each syllable weighed and measured, “知音.” He pauses, and his brows furrow as if he’s translating the word in his head.

Wonwoo looks at him—really looks at him. Though no one particularly sleeps well in the Shatterdome, the rabbit-quick instinct to jerk awake and sleep lightly in case the alarm sounds ingrained in all of those who trained here, Minghao’s eye bags seem darker. There’s a tired air to him, one that is usually offset with Mingyu’s sunnier disposition. 

“Zhī yīn,” Wonwoo repeats when Minghao seems to elapse into thought. The tones pull clunkily out of his mouth, and the word doesn’t sound as _right_ when he says it. 

Minghao’s eyes snap back to him. “Right. The literal translation means ‘one who knows the melody’,” he continues, “but it’s a word, a synonym for a friend who truly and intimately knows you. A soulmate.” His eyes shine with something Wonwoo doesn’t know how to read— isn’t meant to know how to read. “That’s Mingyu. That’s what the drift is for me. My 知音.”

“Your soulmate,” Wonwoo says, suddenly finding the digital display of the Conn-Pod fascinating. His mind turns, unbidden, to Soonyoung. It’s funny. No matter how he thinks about it, there’s only one person in his world that would fit that description. 

Minghao seems to sense his discomfort about the topic, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Every pilot would have something different to say about the drift,” he says, “I’ve talked to Seokmin and Jeonghan, or Yerim and Suhyun, or Joohyun and Seulgi. It’s all different.” 

There’s nothing Wonwoo can do but nod, and promptly turns off the light in the Conn-Pod before his expression can become too obvious. “Right. Thanks Minghao,” he says, modulating his voice to keep it steady, “it looks like _Bright Star_ is ready to go for the next time you get deployed.” 

“Thanks for checking her over,” Minghao responds. If there’s sympathy on Minghao’s face, he can’t see it.  


* * *

  
`July 17, 2018`

On his 22nd birthday, Wonwoo discovers that he is not drift compatible with Soonyoung. 

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung says to him afterwards, sitting next to him on the crisp white bed in the infirmary. His voice sounds bruised. “I’m sorry, it’s...” Soonyoung trails off, sighing.

Wonwoo picks at a loose thread fraying from the sheets. “It’s fine,” he says, but then his mouth snaps shut. It’s not fine. Not really. 

The PPDC psych analysts still need to run evaluations on them. Right now, though, all he wants is to _understand_ , so that his mind doesn’t replay the moment when their neural handshake fails, over and over again. He tries not to focus on the way Soonyoung can’t quite seem to look at him in the eyes. He tries not to focus on the tremble in his hands. 

Their neural handshake failed during drift sync testing, a simulation created for the purpose of not only testing drift compatibility in as close as possible proximity to piloting Jaegers, but to also prepare cadets for the neural overload of entering the drift during combat. It’s one of the last tests before graduating from the academy. If you can drift with your assigned partner during drift sync testing, you’re _set_ , ready, locked and loaded. 

Wonwoo—in all their time in the academy—has never once doubted his compatibility with Soonyoung. 

Even now, he can’t. There’s no one he trusts more in his life. Wonwoo knows, without a doubt, that he would allow Soonyoung to fall into his mind with complete abandon, would surrender himself up and any walls that he may have. In the drift, Wonwoo has always seen himself as having space to share with Soonyoung. 

Even now, he trusts him. 

He can feel, rather than see, when Soonyoung shifts uneasily on the bed. The silence grows. Then, “Wonwoo, I...” His voice sounds feeble, thin in a way that Wonwoo isn’t used to hearing from him. “It’s— I’m sorry. I’m _sorry_. It’s my fault.” There’s a tremble in Soonyoung’s voice. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Soonyoung turn away, and then sniffles. 

Wonwoo’s heart aches along with him. Aches for himself. “Why?” he asks. The words don’t come out as gently as he wishes they were; coarse and frayed.

But Soonyoung doesn’t respond. He turns, and buries his face into Wonwoo’s shoulder. Slowly, with limbs that feel as heavy as his heart, Wonwoo wraps his arms around Soonyoung, and holds onto his trembling frame. 

His body feels numb. He tries to focus on the familiar citrus-scent of Soonyoung’s shampoo, the faint smell of sweat from their training, the sound of footsteps just on the other side of the door. His stomach churns.

Wonwoo tries not to notice it, but it’s too late—there’s a timber of something unfathomable in Soonyoung’s voice, something laden with guilt and shame. There’s a distant part of him that knows that this happens. Drift compatibility isn’t a connection you can force, not even with someone you love. But still, Wonwoo feels a chill run down his spine, feels hurt and grief curl in his gut. 

Pain builds up behind his eyes. He blinks. He blinks again; Wonwoo reaches up to feel his face, and dimly, he registers the trickle of tears.  


* * *

  
`January 23, 2019`

It takes them six months to find Soonyoung a drift compatible partner. Lee Chan is young, headstrong, and relentlessly persistent, runs on too much ambition and instinct, but the combination of their passion and precision is evident when they drift. When Soonyoung and Chan are out there and fighting together, Wonwoo doesn’t think he’s seen anything as close to art. 

Still, it doesn’t stop his heart from breaking once more.  


* * *

  
`March 22, 2021`

It’s 6 AM on a Thursday when Wonwoo wakes up to blaring sirens and flashing lights. The jolt of adrenaline is familiar, and Wonwoo is no stranger to the fear that accompanies it. His stomach swoops uneasily as he wrestles himself off his bed. Years of training have cultivated the instinct to awaken immediately, his body moving before his mind fully processes the sirens, already moving through the motions to prepare for the Kaiju attack.

The Shatterdome is an organized chaos. The tunnel-like corridors fill with hundreds of feet stampeding up and down through the chrome interior. Wonwoo runs into Junhui, the Neural Bridge Operator, on his way to LOCCENT. He looks far too awake for the hour.

“I haven’t actually gone to bed yet,” Junhui tells him brightly, “That’s my secret.”

Wonwoo gives him a shrewd look. “Do I want to know?”

“Nope!” Junhui smiles at him. Each person in their Shatterdome has their own quirks and habits—no one probably has a _proper_ sleeping schedule, it’s impossible—and so Wonwoo just pats him on the shoulder as the metal doors of the elevator shriek open once they reach the top.

The Command Center is already milling with other J-Tech Officers in tell-tale organized chaos. While Junhui flocks towards Choi Seungcheol, their Chief LOCCENT Officer, to await for the Rangers to arrive, Wonwoo joins the rest of the engineers and battle programmers as they check over their assigned Kaijus to prepare them for potential deployment. The Marshal is barking orders at the LOCCENT techs. On the overhead speaker, Seungcheol begins to brief all the techs and rangers on the coordinates and behaviour of the Kaiju. 

Wonwoo knows the procedure by heart now; can carry through the motions with his eyes closed if he had to do so. Neither Soonyoung nor Chan have arrived from the Drivesuit Room yet, but he starts running the routine tests to the body of their Jaeger as he waits for them.

 _Lilili Yabbay_ is a Mark IV Jaeger, almost ostentatiously flashy with its black and orange striped paint coat, courtesy of Soonyoung’s request. Unlike Seokmin and Jeonghan’s Jaeger, which was built for strength and close combat, or the fancy hardware built into Mingyu and Minghao’s _Bright Star_ , _Lilili Yabbay_ ’s strengths lay in its stamina and performance. Built to be agile, precise, and fast, _Lilili Yabbay_ is known for fighting with a long-standing endurance that leads to record victories with low-level casualties—and, in turn, cost-savings to the PPDC. 

But as much as Wonwoo has learned to appreciate the machines during his tenure as a Jaeger Engineer, no Jaeger can be lauded without its pilots. 

And Soonyoung and Chan are two of the most incredible pilots he’s ever seen. 

He’s just about finished running a performance status analysis on _Lilili Yabbay_ when he hears the patter of feet come up behind him amidst the chaos of the Command Room. Only five minutes have passed, but time always runs a little differently once a Kaiju launches an attack. 

“She’s ready to go,” Wonwoo says quietly, without looking, knowing that the two pilots will hear him. 

Chan steps up first. “Thanks, hyung,” he says. Despite their record-breaking successes, Chan has never fully worked the nerves out of himself each time they’re deployed for combat. He wields bravado like armour, but Wonwoo knows him well enough by now. He shoots Chan a comforting smile—or at least he hopes it is—just as Soonyoung offers a quick squeeze to Chan’s arm.

“Fighting,” Soonyoung says, quiet at first, but a wry grin toys at the corner of his lips. “Thank you for taking care of her as always, Wonwoo.”

They’re both outfitted in their Drivesuits; slick black suits that mould flexibly to their bodies, enmeshed with circuitry and laced with synaptic processor mesh. The armour is lighter than it looks, designed to move easily with their bodies, and their helmets are tucked under the crook of their arms. 

“Three minutes!” Seungcheol calls out, his loud voice cutting through the aural clutter of the Command Center. 

Soonyoung nods at Chan. It’s time for them to step into the Conn-Pod to initiate their Neural Handshake. Likewise, that means Wonwoo’s job is mostly over, only monitoring from the J-Tech Headquarters left for him to do. As the engineer, it’s his job to remain on standby in case of any hardware failures. 

In an unspoken conversation, Chan heads inside the command platform first, leaving Soonyoung with Wonwoo. Wonwoo’s heart flutters in his chest, adrenaline and fear and worry coursing through his veins and sending a thrilling jolt down his spine, as Soonyoung turns to him with a wan smile.

He’d do it anyway, he thinks, and not for the first time, even if it wasn’t part of his job. Anything to keep Soonyoung safe. Anything to know that he’s safe. 

“Fighting,” Wonwoo says in return. 

Soonyoung nods, and as he always does, he extends his right pinky. “I’ll be back soon,” he says to Wonwoo, with a softness in his voice that makes Wonwoo’s heart _ache_.

Wonwoo reaches back, as he always does, and links their pinkies together. The mesh of the Drivesuit is a familiar texture against his hand. “I’ll see you soon.” 

The Conn-Pod door hisses shut behind Soonyoung.  


* * *

  
`April 12, 2019`

“Have you ever tried drifting with anyone else?” Junhui asks him one day, after their first training session in the J-Tech program. 

Wonwoo sighs. For a second, he only stares at the sheaf of papers in front of him, as if the incomplete assignment for their program holds the answers that he doesn’t feel quite up to telling. It remains blank. 

Once. 

Other than Soonyoung, Wonwoo has only tried drifting with one other person. Im Changkyun entered the Jaeger Program in 2017 alongside him and Soonyoung, shortly after the first Kaiju rose in the waters of the Yellow Sea. There were a dozen or so cadets in general in their cohort, and a few more who had already diverged into one of the J-Tech or K-Science streams. The three of them have always gotten along, his dry wit and humour matching well with Wonwoo, and softening slightly around Soonyoung. 

After Soonyoung, Wonwoo thinks that the person he knew best would be Changkyun. The algorithm employed by the PPDC for the program appeared to think so as well; after they discovered that he and Soonyoung weren’t drift compatible, he had been paired with Changkyun instead.

Soonyoung, at the time, had still been partnerless. No one else had been deemed compatible through algorithm-matching, and everyone else had pre-established partners, much like he and Wonwoo once were. When Wonwoo had told him about Changkyun, Soonyoung had stiffened, and then smiled, brittle at the edges. 

“That’s good, right?” Soonyoung said. There was a note of regret in his eyes, but it was made murky with something that Wonwoo could only guess to be relief. 

The look on Soonyoung’s face was a phantom ache in his own heart.

For a few months, Wonwoo and Changkyun trained together as partners. And if Wonwoo had to be honest, it was clear that they were compatible in everything from their fighting styles in the Kwoon Combat Room to the Jaeger Combat Simulator. On the surface, there was nothing _wrong_ with their compatibility. 

But in the end, Wonwoo had never been able to make their neural handshake succeed. That’s the funny thing about memory—it’s a type of ghost, one that hungers. In Changkyun’s more defensive and tricky fight style, even in the split-second minute he thought he had entered the drift, all Wonwoo could see were the remnants of the one person who had been by his side up until then. 

Wonwoo couldn’t do it. 

History has shown that it’s normal to be drift compatible with more than one person. Those who have lost their partners in battle have come back and surged into the fight with a new one. Others go through several algorithm-matched partners until a neural handshake succeeds. Later, Wonwoo meets Seokmin, Mingyu, and Minghao and learns that all three of them are drift compatible with each other—and even co-pilot with each other when their regular partner is temporarily out of action because of injuries. 

Wonwoo _couldn’t_. There’s only one person he’d fully trust to let into his mind, and that was never going to be a possibility. And the next day, he had immediately requested to be transferred into the J-Tech program instead.

Wrenching from his thoughts, Wonwoo sighs and turns to look at Junhui, sprawled out on his own bed with his assignment papers spread out in front of him. His attention is still trained on the physics problem they’d been ripping their hair over for the past half-hour. It doesn’t seem like Junhui is paying him any attention, but by now, Wonwoo knows better. He’s always been more observant than most people realized—just like Soonyoung.

“I have,” Wonwoo says eventually, and he looks down at his own scratchy handwriting, the equation he couldn’t solve, “It didn’t work.” 

“Why not?” 

Wonwoo’s smile is bitter. “Memory is exhausting, I guess.”  


* * *

  
`March 22, 2021`

Wonwoo’s office in the J-Tech headquarters has a small monitor that’s connected to the LOCCENT Control Room. Seungcheol’s voice filters in through tinny speakers as he tries—and fails to focus on—fiddling with an engine model that he’s been reworking over the past couple of weeks. His eyes are locked onto the screen, the pixelated blur of _Lilili Yabbay_ surging through the waters. The one-way connection doesn’t allow Wonwoo to hear Soonyoung or Chan in the Conn-Pods. It almost doesn’t matter, not when he can hear LOCCENT, but he finds himself wishing he could anyway. 

“Geguri,” he hears Seungcheol’s voice say, “Category IV Kaiju.”

He watches as the Jaeger rips through the sea, easier than most despite the terrain. The priority of the program is to always hold Kaijus at bay before they reach land, minimize the damage and destruction through sheer force of power. There’s no Jaeger better suited for initial deployment than _Lilili Yabbay_. Wonwoo made sure of that. 

_Lilili Yabbay_ was built to suit her pilots, and reflective of Soonyoung and Chan’s own agile and nimble builds, she’s lighter on her feet than most. They reach the Kaiju—Geguri—within minutes of deployment, descending upon the monster in a heavy fury of fists and elbows. 

The Kaiju is a squat, ugly thing with webbed feet and frog-like limbs. A sickly, green bioluminescent glow diffuses throughout its body, and when it opens its gaping maws, a grotesque slime drips out from its unhinged jaw.

“Running bioscans,” Seungcheol says, his voice clipped and measured, “Bioscans indicate substance may be poisonous or acidic.” Wonwoo straightens up in his chair. His eyes drift to his pager. Nothing yet, but he knows he might be called back to deck if the poison seems to erode away from the Jaeger armour. “Proceed carefully—we will monitor how it interacts with the exterior of _Lilili Yabbay_.”

Wonwoo watches with bated breath as the Kaiju manages to avoid the first few blows by scampering through the churning water. Its attention is caught by _Lilili Yabbay_ though, and to that end, they’ve been successful in diverting it away from Kowloon. Now, to take it down and prevent it from advancing further. Without further losses, if any at all. 

The battle is brutal. Half of it is a game of keep-away, the other half is the daunting task of bringing it down. Thousands of tons of heavy machinery against the monstrosity of the Kaiju, reverberating blows and earth-shattering impacts that sends the waters rippling as it grapples away from _Lilili Yabbay_. Soonyoung and Chan have managed to maneuver away from its acid so far, but Wonwoo’s nerves don’t die down. 

About an hour in, Wonwoo gets paged to head back to the command center. There’s nothing he can do but watch, but somehow, the hectic chaos filled with Shatterdome technicians and the other standby J-Tech officers are more soothing than the emptiness of his office. He picks at his sleeves as anxiety rolls through him as his ears strain to hear the shouts and grunts of Soonyoung and Chan in their Conn-Pods. 

The game can only continue for so long, and as skilled as Soonyoung and Chan are, they’re young and human in the end. Wonwoo knows once the battle forges past the two-hour mark, their stamina starts depleting as well. It’s exhausting, keeping the mental and physical load of the Jaeger on their bodies. They’re rounding up the clock now. 

Seungcheol sighs. “Lilili Yabbay, feint and attack with your plasmablade. Bide your time, retreat if necessary. We’re sending out _Angel Blade_.”

Seokmin and Jeonghan. Their Mark V Jaeger has been built with more nuclear power built into its weaponry and design. 

With the costs of manufacturing and repair, the PPDC tends to hold off on sending more than one Jaeger into battle. Cost-saving, but Wonwoo has never been in support of the risks. Having them join the battle should help relieve _Lilili Yabbay_. It also speaks to the growing threat of the Kaiju.

“Got it,” Soonyoung’s voice filters through the system. At the apparent strain in his voice, Wonwoo’s heart jolts in his chest. “Initiating Moonwalker.” 

Wonwoo squeezes his hands into fists. The bite of his nails presses indents into his palm. To the west, _Angel Blade_ begins its descent into the waters and towards _Lilili Yabbay’s_ coordinates with Seungcheol’s guidance. 

_Lilili Yabbay_ ’s carbon-reinforced blade swings through the air in a clear arc and slams into Geguri’s left arm. He can hear Soonyoung and Chan’s dual shouts as the Kaiju immediately staggers from the attack. They press harder, dragging the blade through the Kaiju and cauterizing its limb from its body.

The Kaiju recoils, lumbering from the attack, and retaliates with a piercing shriek that makes its way through the command center system, sending a chill down Wonwoo’s spine. Then, with impossible speed for such an ungainly creature, the Kaiju turns towards _Lilili Yabbay’s_ right arm, grabbing with a vice grip. Its massive jaws unhinge, revealing a horrifying maw bubbling with acid that drips down its mottled body and into the sea. 

Before anyone can react, Geguri spews sickly acid over _Lilili Yabbay_. At once, the surface of the metal joints begin to corrode. “Shit!” he hears Chan grit out. 

Around him, the Shatterdome technicians rush to check the vital statistics. With rising volume, Seungcheol barks orders to _Angel Blade_ with increasing urgency, peppering in commands to _Lilili Yabbay_ to retreat. Wonwoo straightens up, his eyes scanning over the bioscan with dawning horror, a sick feeling rising in his gut. His mind races through the implications, the dangers, if it breaches through the anti-radiation protective barrier and seeps between the joints, penetrating through the systems—

With another ungodly shriek, the Kaiju volleys against _Lilili Yabbay_ once more. Its webbed hands tighten its grip around the Jaeger’s right arm, right where the acid had corroded the metal the most, and _twists_. The metal limb warps under the force, and with a horrifying squeal of metal and carbon, the Kaiju shreds the appendage from the body of _Lilili Yabbay_.

For a second, Wonwoo can’t breathe.

Then, Soonyoung _screams_ , ear-splitting and chilling to the bone, the force of his agony and pain wracked into a wretched, nauseating sob that stops Wonwoo’s heart. 

“Soonyoung!” Wonwoo screams, tearing towards the console. Someone—he doesn’t know who—wrenches him back. A faint part of his mind registers the spike in Soonyoung’s heart rate on the monitor, the rush of technicians and officers as they clamber into chaos. Sunkyu, the neural bridge operator assigned to _Lilili Yabbay_ , is barking commands to try and keep them in alignment. In the midst of it all, Seungcheol is shouting Soonyoung’s name, the skim of panic only faintly repressed in his voice. The sounds of the command center fades into white noise as Wonwoo fights against the vice-hold on his arms, desperate to get to Soonyoung despite the impossibility and futility of his efforts. 

Chan’s voice cuts through the system. “He’s— he’s unconscious, or he’s in shock. I think his arm is broken.” He sounds panicked, more unsure of himself than Wonwoo has heard him sound in a long, long time. But Wonwoo can’t focus on it, not when the faint whimper makes it through the system. He hears Chan call out Soonyoung’s name, a tremor in his voice. “Hyung, _hyung_.” Chan sucks in a breath, audible through the comms, “Stay with me. Please, you have to— please stay with me.”

Icy fear bolts through Wonwoo’s vein as he watches, helpless, as silence greets them at the other end of the system. He doesn’t dare breathe, doesn’t think he knows _how_ to, as his gut roils with nausea, fear, and anxiety.

Seungcheol swears. “Hang in there, Lilili Yabbay. T-minus 2 until Angel Blade. Velvet Fury and Bright Star are being deployed now, ready to back up. Hold tight, retreat, and we’ll get you out of there.” 

“I can’t— I can’t _alone_ ,” Chan says, his voice shaking, “Not without Soonyoung-hyung— I can’t—”

“T-minus 1,” Seungcheol grits out. 

Geguri reels back, preparing to strike them again. For one brief, terrifying moment, Wonwoo thinks this is it. There’s no way Chan can pilot the Jaeger alone, not with the burden it would place on his mind. It’s too dangerous. A dizzyingly consuming fear grips Wonwoo, choking his breath as his lungs feel suddenly three-times too small, rising like bile at the back of his throat, at the realization that Chan and Soonyoung are in there. That they’re stuck and can’t get away. He promised himself he would protect Soonyoung, that if he couldn’t pilot right next to him, he would build the best fucking Jaegers that humanity has ever witnessed, and he can’t, he can’t see Soonyoung die, he can’t, the first and last person he’s ever loved—

As Geguri wrenches towards _Lilili Yabbay_ again, the left side of her body swings up, impossibly, to brace for impact. It shouldn’t be possible for the Jaeger to move at all, not with Soonyoung down for the count, and fear claws its way up Wonwoo’s guts. But the single movement is enough to block the projectile acid from its intended trajectory—at the helm of the Jaeger where the Conn-Pod is located—and the left arm bubbles as it begins to corrode. When the Kaiju lunges again, _Angel Blade_ barrels into it from the right. Underneath them, the water crashes and boils around them. The Kaiju’s scream peters off into a gut-burning gurgle as nuclear energy is released from the core of _Angel Blade_ and, in its final blow, slices straight through its head. Geguri sinks into the sea in a mist of acid, and Wonwoo tries to breathe. 

“Chan, Soonyoung. Do you hear me?” Seungcheol says urgently into the comms. 

Silence. The connection between LOCCENT and Lilili Yabbay remains silent.  


* * *

  
`June 3, 2019`

He finds Soonyoung in his room after his monthly evaluation with the psych analysts. Soonyoung’s known his keypad password since they settled in at the Shatterdome, but seeing him flopped on Wonwoo’s bed, his hand cradled in the crook of his arms, eyes closed still sends his heart stuttering. 

Soonyoung doesn’t open his eyes at the sound of the steel door creaking to a close, nor when Wonwoo drops his bag onto the chair in front of his tiny desk. He bites down on his bottom lip as he studies Soonyoung. The soft, crooning voice of a faintly familiar ballad plays from a speaker next to Soonyoung’s head. His dark hair falls slightly into his eyes, soft and slightly wavy as it always gets after Soonyoung showers, and he’s dressed in clean, comfortable clothing. Soonyoung’s feet are bare—Wonwoo would’ve killed him if he climbed into his bed with shoes on—and for an inexplicable reason, a tendril of warm fondness curls around his heart at the sight of his knobby little ankles as his feet move to the rhythm of music.

It’s been awhile since they’ve had time to themselves. With Wonwoo nearing the completion of the J-Tech program and Soonyoung training harder than ever with Chan, they have both been occupied. Only recently, it feels as if their friendship has finally returned back to normal. Slowly, gently, easing their way back from the awkwardness that seeped in since their failed neural handshake. 

Wonwoo settles onto the bed next to Soonyoung. He reaches out to brush away the wayward strands of hair that’s fallen into Soonyoung’s eyes, and as if waiting for his touch, Soonyoung immediately curls closer to him. Warmth blossoms in his chest. 

For a moment, they sit in silence. 

“I miss dancing,” Soonyoung says, after a minute with a sigh. He arches his head into Wonwoo’s palm like the cat that their neighbour, Auntie Choi, used to have back at their home. Soonyoung has always been a tactile person, and Wonwoo is secretly relieved that his craving for physical affection has never been stamped out by the cold tunnels of the Shatterdome. 

Wonwoo stifles a chuckle. “You dance with Chan and Minghao all the time.” He continues combing his hand through Soonyoung’s hair. “Seriously, I thought you were going to give Chan a heart attack when you decided to drop low an—”

A hand comes up to cover his mouth. Soonyoung shifts and glares up at Wonwoo with an embarrassed pout. “Vernon and Seungkwan are _not_ seeing the gates of heaven with whatever alcoholic concoction they gave us that day.” The hand falls away. “Besides, Channie has seen much, much worse. The first time we entered the drift, he saw—” Abruptly, Soonyoung freezes. Wonwoo bites his lip, curious, when the tips of Soonyoung’s ears turn red. “Anyway, it’s not the same. I just miss the feeling of— of being _free_ when I dance. I dunno. It sounds stupid.” 

The ache of the reminder that Soonyoung has his own co-pilot still burns slightly in his gut. Wonwoo isn’t sure if it’ll ever go away, but it’s imbued too, now, with a sense of pride and admiration. Soonyoung and Chan work well together. If anything, Wonwoo would say that seeing them in tandem is like a dance of its own. 

But that’s not what Soonyoung is talking about. Wonwoo has a feeling of what Soonyoung wants. For someone who is so bold, so unafraid of the vastness of his dreams, Soonyoung can still be so, _so_ shy. Even when Wonwoo, who he’s known forever, even when Soonyoung curls into his hand for touch.

Maybe because it’s Wonwoo, that he knows when Soonyoung just needs to be held—without saying it outloud. A small smile flits at the corner of Wonwoo’s mouth. “Let’s dance, then.” 

A light pink dusts Soonyoung’s cheeks, but he doesn’t protest when Wonwoo pulls him off the bed. The music coming from the speakers is still a soft, heartstrung melody with a sweet crooning voice.

He takes Soonyoung’s left hand and places it gently on his shoulder. Wonwoo ignores the skip of his own heart as he slides his arm around Soonyoung’s waist and pulls him close. It takes a brief second, but then Soonyoung relaxes, the tension seeping from his body as he rocks forward, pressing the side of his face to Wonwoo’s. 

Slowly, Wonwoo moves them around the small floor space of his room. Neither of them are trained ballroom dancers, but they used to do this when they were kids and imitating Soonyoung’s parents, under the ginkgo tree just outside their bedroom windows, their feet moving in a truncated rhythm on softly-packed soil. Soonyoung had been the dancer between them when they were kids, but it was Wonwoo who would pull out dance moves like they were party tricks; his eyes always trained on Soonyoung for his reaction, waiting for Soonyoung’s squeal of laughter whenever Wonwoo goofily did the robot.

In retrospect, Wonwoo had just wanted to make Soonyoung laugh. Now, Wonwoo can’t say his motivations have changed—if anything, they’ve only grown. 

Soonyoung is a grounding presence. Wonwoo can smell the crisp scent of his shampoo still clinging to his hair. Wonwoo’s hands tighten on Soonyoung’s waist, resolutely ignoring the voice saying he’s being too bold, too obvious. 

It’s been a long time since they’ve held each other like this. 

They stay like that, just swaying together. He’s not really paying attention to what their feet are doing, but with Soonyoung, Wonwoo has never needed to. Their feet find their rhythm, a melody only they know, and together, they dance. Slow, slow, quick-slow. Soonyoung tries to turn him, and Wonwoo lets himself move through with the motion, a little awkward with their slight height difference, then he swings back around to face Soonyoung again. 

Their eyes meet. The silliness of what they’re doing— _slow-dancing_ in the bowels of the Shatterdome—hits them all at once, and at the same time, they both burst into laughter. Soonyoung’s smile widens, his eyes sparkle, lighting up his whole face, and that familiar warmth of breathlessness seizes Wonwoo as his eyes drink in the lines and curves of Soonyoung’s cute features. 

Soonyoung looks up at Wonwoo through his dark eyelashes. The sound of laughter fades, and the song continues onto the next track. His lips are slightly parted and Wonwoo can’t help his eyes from dropping to them. His stomach feels strangely fluttery inside.

“Wonwoo,” Soonyoung says, squeezing his shoulders just a bit. His voice is quiet, almost fragile in the solitude of his room. “Wonwoo, I—” he falters, and then exhales, “I’m sorry. You know that I— I wish we _could_ — that we _were_...”

Wonwoo swallows hard, then looks up to meet Soonyoung’s gaze. The torn expression on Soonyoung’s face, the frustration at the words he wants to say but _can’t_ , leaves his heart squeezing with a phantom-like ache. Wonwoo still doesn’t know— doesn’t know why exactly they’re not drift compatible. But he can read _something_ on Soonyoung’s features that makes his chest burn and blossom—both the warmth of all his feelings, and the coldness of the unknown too. 

Still. Still, there are things that Wonwoo has come to accept. 

“I know,” Wonwoo says, after a silent moment. He memorizes Soonyoung’s face again, recapturing the play of light and shadow against his cheeks, the soft shine on his lips, and the remorse in his eyes. It’s not Soonyoung’s fault, even if Wonwoo still hurts from it, and it’s not fair to punish Soonyoung—or Chan—for it either. His heart clenches in his chest. Wonwoo leans forward and presses their cheeks together, gentle and healing in its wake. “I know. We’ll be okay.”  


* * *

  
`March 22, 2021`

En route to the infirmary, he passes by Jihoon. “He’ll be alright,” he tells Wonwoo in a low voice, the emotion cordoned off in his speech. Still, Wonwoo can see the worry in his eyes. The psych analyst holds a sheaf of papers in his hands, turned away from Wonwoo so that he can’t peek at it. He must be heading to his office after checking over Lilili Yabbay’s co-pilots. 

Regardless, Wonwoo walks faster to get to the infirmary himself. The antsy feeling has yet to dissipate, grown worse when he had to stay back to assess the damages done to the Jaeger. He’s lucky his team let him go earlier. 

The infirmary is quiet, bathed in warm golden rays spilling from a sunlamp and into the corners of the room. Joshua, the nurse on-shift, silently points to a cordoned-off area with a gleam of understanding in his eyes. On a normal day, Wonwoo might feel embarrassed by how apparent he’s being, but his heart is lodged in his throat with worry now. 

When he slips behind the curtain divider, Wonwoo finds Soonyoung and Chan, just two beds and a little bit of privacy. Chan is awake. He nods at Wonwoo as he comes in, and a deep sense of relief fills his body at the sight of Chan conscious and alert—and _safe_. The two of them are out of their drivesuits now, and dressed instead in comfortable grey sweats. 

Soonyoung’s eyes are closed, his breathing blissfully deep and even, but the pallor of his skin and bruises under his eyes has Wonwoo’s chest tightening. He approaches carefully, as if a heavier step would disturb Soonyoung’s rest. Wonwoo exhales. Soonyoung’s right arm is in a sling, strapped to his body to keep it immobile while it heals, and there are no gauzes to suggest radiation or acid burns or contamination. 

He’s okay. Aside from the broken arm, the drivesuits have protected them. The shields had held. 

Wonwoo turns to look over Chan, his worries not entirely qualmed until he makes sure he’s okay too, and finds him staring blearily at Soonyoung’s prone figure. “Hey,” Wonwoo says softly, and pulls a chair up next to Chan’s bed. He slides into the seat, and gently brushes his fingers against Chan’s arm. “How are you doing?”

Chan turns to him and sends him a pained smile. “Hey.” He looks tired. Even without having ever fully piloting a Jaeger, Wonwoo can imagine the condition it has left them in. “I’m...I’m fine, hyung.” Chan sighs, and glances over to Soonyoung in the next bed. “Joshua-hyung and Jihoon-hyung said I’m good to go when I want. I thought I’d just make sure he’s okay first.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay to leave?” Wonwoo asks, worried, “Do you want me to talk to Joshua, if you feel safer staying overnight?” 

Chan shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. A little bruised up, but Jihoon said no other damage to—you know.” _His brain_ , Wonwoo’s mind supplies automatically. Chan continues, “He can’t check on Soonyoung yet, not until he’s awake.” 

His words don’t assuage Wonwoo’s concerns. Chan didn’t experience only a near-death experience—he had to experience whatever Soonyoung had felt, too, in that moment. Their minds had been _one_. There’s no easy recovery from that.

Chan seems to read it off his face, because he says, “Don’t worry. Vernon and Seungkwan came by earlier. I won’t be alone, they said they’re bunking in my room tonight.” 

Slowly, Wonwoo nods, accepting that as an answer. He doesn’t blame Chan. No one wants to stay long in the infirmary. “I’m glad you’re okay,” says Wonwoo instead, sincere. 

A hesitant look flashes across Chan’s features. For a moment, he wonders if it’s his place to press, especially after the harrowing day Chan has had. But Chan’s his friend too, even if he was Soonyoung’s first. 

Wonwoo bites down on his bottom lip. “Hey,” he says, and Chan swivels away from where he’s staring at Soonyoung’s bed and back to him. “What’s wrong?”

Chan doesn’t answer at first, not immediately. He fixes his gaze to his hands. “Just...” His hands turn palm-side up, as if his next words can be read in the lines of his hands, “I just keep thinking—did I do the right thing? Could I have done something better? What if— what if I made things worse, and put Soonyoung-hyung in _more danger_?” The words spill from Chan’s lips, rushing out unfettered, as if the dam had been struck and broken. “What happened out there keeps running through my mind, over and over again. And I can still feel it too. The split-second where Soonyoung-hyung just—” Chan shudders, his eyes landing on the bed next to him again. “I’m scared. I don’t know if I did the right thing.” 

His eyes are wide, a little bit lost, when he turns to look at Wonwoo. Chan almost looks every bit like the kid who came to Hong Kong in 2019, fresh from Iksan with a full list of dreams and ambitions. Something about a promise to his brother, he’d said to Soonyoung at the time. 

Chan had been so desperate to make his name, so desperate for others to see his worth. He’d work twice as hard as anyone else. Wonwoo knew Soonyoung had admired that about him, that it inspired him, in turn, to train right alongside Chan in those early days. And when they turned out to be drift compatible, it had almost felt like an inevitability. 

If he were to say that he didn’t ever feel an ounce of resentment towards Chan, Wonwoo would be lying. Not when his _own_ dreamed-of inevitability had eroded away with a failed neural handshake. 

But Soonyoung had always made sure that Chan was cared for. Even if he didn’t, Wonwoo would have come to learn eventually. Chan, all on his own, had always been formidable. It didn’t take Wonwoo long to recognize it.

“There’s no Ranger like him,” Soonyoung had told him once, about a month after their partnership had been established. “He’s young, but he’s innovative and smart. I think— I think after he’s grown a little, I could see him leading the new cadets. He has that insight, and the patience.”

And it’s looking at Chan now, his shoulders broader and jawline sharper than Wonwoo remembers, that he’s abruptly struck by how much Chan has _grown_. He can see exactly what Soonyoung has been seeing in him, all these years. 

“You did well,” Wonwoo says, and laughs a little sheepishly at how inadequate his words sound. At times like these, he feels as if he’s on a forever quest to search for the right words to say. “Out there, there’s not always a right or wrong choice, not when we’re faced against the improbabilities of this world. But you did well. You made the right choice, and you saved yourself _and_ Soonyoung.” A smile tugs at his lips, a little nostalgic, but warm all the same. “You’d make a great leader, Chan. You can trust in yourself more.” 

For a moment, Chan looks startled. Then he smiles, slow but genuine. Wonwoo smiles back. 

“Soonyoung-hyung is going to be so mad at me when he wakes up,” Chan says, after a moment’s pause. His smile is wry, but it’s genuine. “He wouldn’t have ever wanted me to attempt piloting solo like that. Not when— you know. What could have happened.”

Wonwoo can’t help but smile a little at that too, just as wryly. “You _did_ solo pilot, Chan.”

If only for a few split-seconds, he solo piloted _Lilili Yabbay_. Anyone who has undergone training through the Academy is aware of the risks of attempting to withstand the neural load on their own. 

Wonwoo doesn’t want to think how narrowly that Chan, or Soonyoung, had escaped death. 

“I—” Chan blinks at him. He laughs, a little astounded. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did.” 

A comfortable silence falls between them. Wonwoo’s eyes find their way back to Soonyoung again, lost in thought, as he studies Soonyoung’s sleeping figure. Fear hasn’t completely lodged itself out of his throat just yet. But it’s better. 

The sound of throat clearing drags his attention back to Chan. “You know,” he begins, and an awkward expression flits across his face, “I know...I know you and Soonyoung had originally intended to be co-pilots.”

It wasn’t necessarily a secret, especially not for those who trained right alongside the both of them, and Chan had to have known. In the drift, your thoughts and your memories become one and the same. There’s aspects to Soonyoung that Chan knows—and Wonwoo never will—from entering the drift alone. Still, Wonwoo straightens a little in surprise anyway. “Yeah,” he admits.

“It might not be my place to say,” Chan continues, looking a little uncomfortable, “but for what it’s worth, I think...I think you should really talk to Soonyoung.” 

Wonwoo tries not to feel too taken aback. “About what?”

Chan stares at him, straight in the eyes. “About your feelings.” He doesn’t soften the blow. “You like him, don’t you?”  


* * *

  
A soft touch that trails along the back of Wonwoo’s hand, slow and tentative as if there’s no strength in the movement, and then loops around his pinky. It takes a few seconds, his brain sluggish in the midst of sleep, and then he jolts awake as soon as he recognizes the action. A familiar action, like a pinky swear but so much more in its meaning; sweet and reassuring. 

_Soonyoung._

He springs upright from where he had been slumped over asleep in the chair next to Soonyoung’s bed, eyes flying open. Wonwoo’s heart jolts when he sees Soonyoung blinking blearily at him. He’s as breathtaking as ever. The thought leaves a pang of guilt in his heart, given how exhausted Soonyoung must be, and Wonwoo internally chastises himself. 

When Wonwoo catches his eyes, Soonyoung smiles weakly. “How’s Chan?” Soonyoung says, his voice soft and hoarse, “Is he okay? Where is he?”

“He’s okay, a little bruised but enough that Joshua discharged him immediately,” Wonwoo answers him. He curls his pinky around Soonyoung’s in return, revels in the touch of skin-on-skin as if it’s a lifeline. 

Chan had returned to his room after the K-Science duo came by to visit them both. It was only after he had left, and Wonwoo knew he would be in the same hands of Seungkwan and Vernon, that he allowed himself to sit himself next to Soonyoung instead. Soonyoung had not yet woken up when Wonwoo had fallen asleep next to him. Even now, Wonwoo can see Soonyoung fighting against the haze of the strong painkillers they had given him. 

At Wonwoo’s reassurance, Soonyoung exhales in evident relief. “Thank god,” he says, and his mouth twists slightly. He doesn’t say anything, but even if they’re not drift compatible, Wonwoo has always known how to read his face.

“It’s not your fault,” Wonwoo says, voice firm, “You know it’s not. We’ve trained for this—the inevitability that something _will_ go wrong.” Wonwoo sits back, doesn’t disconnect their pinkies, and swallows down the residual fear that sticks like tar in his throat. It sits at the crux of cadet training, but you don’t have to train at the Jaeger Academy to know the statistics of survival and success. After all, this is their lived reality. The knowledge doesn’t stop the slight quaver in his voice, though, when he says, “What matters is that you’re here. Both of you.”

Soonyoung holds his gaze. In the dimness of the infirmary, shadows stretch out in front of him as he lays with his head against the pillow. He looks exhausted. Soonyoung doesn’t touch his injured arm, but when his eyes flit to the sling, Wonwoo knows that there’s always more monsters to battle than just the ones that rise from the sea. 

Wordlessly, Soonyoung squeezes his pinky with his own. “Thanks for being here, Wonwoo-yah,” he whispers. The small smile he musters makes the warmth in Wonwoo’s heart return.

“Dummy.” Wonwoo recognizes the gesture for what it is—a ritual of love—and squeezes back. “Where else would I be?”

Quiet blanket over the two of them, soft and comfortable in a way that it’s never like with anyone else. He watches as Soonyoung’s eyes flutter shut again. Wonwoo doesn’t disturb him, he needs his rest, and is content with watching over him.

Just as he thinks Soonyoung has fallen asleep again, Soonyoung smiles tiredly. “Do you remember what you said to me when we were kids?” His eyes remain closed. 

Wonwoo looks at him curiously. They’ve known each other for two decades now—he’s said a lot to Soonyoung over the years. 

When they were 6, he told Soonyoung that he thought his smile was ugly and gummy like a worm, and accidentally made Soonyoung self-conscious of his smile for years. 

When they were 13, he finally fixed his mistake and confessed that Soonyoung’s smile was the prettiest he’s ever seen—and has never been that brave ever since. 

When they were 17, Wonwoo—tired and stressed from studying for Suneung—had lashed out at Soonyoung and called him the most annoying person he’s ever met. They made up a few days later, and Wonwoo swore he’d never be the cause for that hurt expression ever again. 

And when they were 21, stricken with grief and loss, their lives changed. Then, Wonwoo had made a promise that he’d never forgotten: that for as long as they were both alive, they would continue to fight and survive together. And above all else, he swore he would do what it took to keep him safe. 

He’s never said that he’s in love with Soonyoung. Not out loud, not to anyone but himself. Not even to Chan, when he had asked him a few hours earlier. But he’s known it for a long, long time, maybe even as long as he’d known Soonyoung. It’s never been something he had to say. Up until now, Wonwoo had been content with the knowledge that they would always be by each other’s side, no matter the shape their relationship took. 

Wonwoo shakes his head, although Soonyoung can’t see the movement. “What?” he says, and chuckles to lighten the mood, “Was it the time I made you cry because I said your smile looked like a worm?”

Soonyoung’s eyes fly open at that, and he scowls indignantly, looking all the more like an angry kitten more than anything. “That was mean!” he says, “You know Mikyung hated you for years because you made her baby brother cry.”

“That’s fine. _I_ was her favourite when we had grown up.” It’s blatantly untrue, but Wonwoo still grins when Soonyoung pouts at him in response. 

“Yeah, well, Bohyuk liked _me_ more.”

 _That_ was probably true. And Wonwoo doesn’t blame his little brother, not when Soonyoung is the most likable person he’s ever met, except maybe after Seokmin—the nicest guy in the entire Shatterdome—but no one’s here to knock him for being biased. Wonwoo doesn’t say it out loud, though his grin softens. 

Talking about their family still leaves a ghostly ache in the space between his ribs. But he’s glad they can talk about their memories too, good or bad. 

Soonyoung’s pout smooths out, and he smiles back at Wonwoo. “Really, though,” he says after a second, “Do you remember? It was because of the worm comment, actually.” Soonyoung’s mouth tugs up at the corner. “After you told me you just wanted to tease me and that you didn’t _actually_ think my smile was ugly, you asked me to be honest whenever there was something bothering me.” 

Wonwoo remembers that. “You’d always put up with my teasing so well. I had no idea it bothered you that much,” he says, still regretful all these years, “And well—I probably should have known better anyway, even without you saying anything.” 

“You were right, though.” Soonyoung shifts slightly onto his left side, so that he’s not laying flat on his back. “How could you know if I don’t tell you?” There’s a wistful quality to his voice, and something else that Wonwoo doesn’t quite recognize. 

Wonwoo looks at him sharply. “Soonyoung?” 

Soonyoung doesn’t look away from him, but the next breath he takes is a slow inhale and followed by a deep exhale, as if Soonyoung is preparing himself for something. Slowly, he uncurls his pinky from Wonwoo, and lets his hand lay limply against the blankets. The warmth of his touch is immediately missed, and Wonwoo’s heart jumps in his chest as worry blankets over him. 

Slightly taken aback, Wonwoo hesitates before he says, “Is something wrong?” He tries not to let the worry colour his voice as his eyes slide to his own hand, still resting on Soonyoung’s bed, and feels strangely bereft. 

Soonyoung takes a deep breath. “There’s something I haven’t been able to tell you.” 

Wonwoo goes abruptly still. He looks up from his hand to Soonyoung’s face, and steels himself against a wash of anxiety. His heart jumps his throat, and he curls his hand into a fist, as if to protect himself from whatever Soonyoung is going to say next. 

He tilts his chin up, looks into Wonwoo's eyes. It is both a challenge and an apology. “To me, you’re...you’re an irreplaceable friend.” Soonyoung draws the blankets closer around him, a protective shield. “And sometimes, I’ve been— scared, Wonwoo, that maybe I’m holding you back. I’m— I broke our promise. We never co-piloted together, like we said we would after we came here. Nothing is as we’d imagined. I, I don’t think I _can_ drift with anyone but Chan. I don’t think I want to. But you’re— you’re stuck here, and it’s because of me.”

“Soonyoung—”

“You...you’re someone precious to me, Wonwoo,” says Soonyoung, and then his bottom lip trembles. The hot coals of fear and worry rake over Wonwoo’s heart, and he opens his mouth to speak, to reassure. Before he can, Soonyoung cuts in and continues, “But living in the Shatterdome isn’t anything near idyllic, and we all know that. Barely seeing the sunlight, the city, or even having a place to call our home. I know we can’t turn back time or, or anything like that—but even the walled city might be better than _this_.” 

“But you’re not,” Wonwoo says helplessly, his mind spinning in dizzying circles as he tries to understand where Soonyoung is coming from. “You’re not holding me back at all.”

Soonyoung’s eyes shine with grief, and Wonwoo’s heart squeezes in his chest as if constricted by a thousand snakes, painful and suffocating all at once. “Aren’t I?” he asks Wonwoo, “I dragged you here with me, but now you’re still stuck here and staying with me can only mean that you’ll continue to be stuck here. You used to talk about— about wanting to marry someone who knew you best, just like your parents had done, and how you would study poetry and computer science and adopt a cat and— and _here_ , all I can offer you here are the Jaegers, the sleepless nights lost to the blaring alarm, the _fear_.” 

_You_ know me best, he thinks but doesn’t say. Wonwoo’s heart plummets from his chest and through his stomach. “I—”

Soonyoung swallows audibly. “I don’t want to do that to you,” he whispers, “I can’t let myself be the reason why you’re not living your life. As much as we can in this life. Even with the Kaijus.” 

“But you’re not,” Wonwoo says, this time more firmly, as he takes in the disbelieving look on his face. Urgency fills his mouth with words that he doesn’t quite know how to spit out, but he tries anyway. _God_ , does he try. “Soonyoung, seriously, you’re not holding me back from anything. You _haven’t_ — Soonyoung, I haven’t made _any_ decisions that weren’t my own. Entering the program was _my_ decision. Staying was _my_ decision. Training as an engineer was _my_ decision. You can’t take that on _you_. It doesn’t work that way.” 

“Even if we can’t drift?” Soonyoung asks, his voice fragile in a whisper. 

Wonwoo swallows at the vulnerability laid open on Soonyoung’s face. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen Soonyoung like this. “Even if we can’t drift,” he says resolutely, almost pleading in his adamance. “Yes, it hurt at first. But that wasn’t— that’s not on _you_. I just— sometimes I _want_ too much.” 

Soonyoung is staring at him with wide eyes. The words feel more honest than Wonwoo would normally let slip, but in his panic, he doesn’t know how else to make it _clear_ to Soonyoung that he wants to stay. He’s always had.

“It’s _enough_ to just have your friendship, Soonyoung, and to stay by your side. Saying good morning to you, hearing you say good night to _me_ , being able to eat with you, teasing you when you complain about kimchi for the third day in the row, reminiscing about our old memories and forging new ones _despite all else_ —” Wonwoo takes in a deep breath, so deep that it rattles in his chest. “—these are the moments that matter to _me_.”

A tear rolls down Soonyoung’s face. Wonwoo’s heart shatters all over again.

“And I would pick this over and over again,” Wonwoo says, desperation bubbling away in his heartbreak, “I would pick _you_ over and over again, Soonyoung. Every. Single. Day.”

His words grind to a halt, and his breath leaves him all at once. Soonyoung looks at him, astonished and at a loss for words, his cheek still shining with the path that his tear had left. 

Wonwoo feels breathless. His chest heaves, but his heart feels heavy for all that he doesn’t know how to say. Wonwoo had always prided himself for his vocabulary, his thirst for learning, but it’s starkly clear how much he still lacks in his ability to _say_ what his heart feels. 

But maybe Soonyoung understands—after all, Soonyoung has always known him best—because in the next moment, Wonwoo feels a hand wrapping around his wrist and Soonyoung _tugs_ —

And they’re kissing. The angle is a little awkward, a little off-centre because Wonwoo had to throw his other hand out to brace himself from collapsing entirely on top of Soonyoung. It lands on his chest, and it must have hurt a little, but Soonyoung doesn’t seem to mind. 

Soonyoung is still laying down, one side of his body immobile and in a sling, but his lips press against the very corner of Wonwoo’s in the sweetest and gentlest kiss. His left hand is still wrapped loosely around Wonwoo’s wrist, and underneath Wonwoo’s under hand, he can feel the steady _thump thump thump_ of Soonyoung’s heartbeat. It should be an awkward kiss, all things considered, but it’s not. Wonwoo can’t think of anything more perfect than the feeling of Soonyoung against him. 

“I think we should talk,” Wonwoo murmurs to Soonyoung when they finally break apart. His mind flashes back to Chan’s words to him before he had left the infirmary, his advice for them both. 

Soonyoung tenses, but then Wonwoo slides their hands together and interlaces their finger, pinky next to pinky. He leans down, this time careful not to knock into Soonyoung, and his mouth presses softly against the angle of Soonyoung’s jaw. Then, the wetness of his cheeks, chasing away the tears. Soonyoung lets his eyes flutter close, and Wonwoo presses another kiss to his lips. Again, and again. 

“Okay,” Soonyoung says softly, in between kisses, “Okay, let’s talk.” And then he smiles at Wonwoo then, reassuring, warm, loving.

And, to Wonwoo, it feels a lot like home.  


* * *

  
`June 20, 2021`

Wonwoo is studying a life-sized blueprint of the design of _Lilili Yabbay_ ’s gravity capacitors with a single-minded focus when he hears a knock on his office door. There’s a clatter of footsteps behind him, and moments later Soonyoung pokes his head through the door. His nose scrunches up in distaste when he steps into the room. 

“Ugh,” he says, rolling his eyes as he pads up to Wonwoo. “I can’t believe you’re listening to that again.” 

The tips of Soonyoung’s hair are damp when he presses up against Wonwoo, wrapping his arms around Wonwoo’s waist as he nuzzles the nape of his neck. The soft press of his lips to Wonwoo’s skin fills him with a blossoming warmth that has his heart dancing in funny little beats in his chest. He leans into Soonyoung’s touch. 

On his desk, the radio continues to spout endless praise for another battle well-won by _Lilili Yabbay_. A small huff of laughter escapes him when he sees the glare fixed on Soonyoung’s face as he eyes the radio. 

Rather than looking intimidating, the pout on Soonyoung’s face is just terribly, _terribly_ cute. Wonwoo turns around and aims a bite for Soonyoung’s cheek. Soonyoung evades him, used to his antics. 

“It’s good white noise,” Wonwoo protests, but he reaches over to turn the radio off anyway. Now that Soonyoung’s here, freshly cleaned from defeating _Gwisin_ , a Category-3 Kaiju, he has no need for the radio. 

Soonyoung only squeezes his arms around Wonwoo tighter before he lets go. “Ready to go?”

Nodding, Wonwoo quickly scribbles down the last of his notes on the design of the Jaeger and files away the blueprints and notebooks into his drawer. As he signs out of the secure network to shut down his computer, Soonyoung waits for him at the door patiently.

Soonyoung smiles, extending a hand as he walks closer. “Everyone’s already at the canteen,” he tells Wonwoo, “Mingyu is going to eat everything if we don’t hurry.” 

It’s with a wordless love that Wonwoo reaches back. He links their pinkies together as they head out of the J-Tech headquarters, but it’s Soonyoung who entwines their fingers together fully, properly. In the narrow corridors of the Shatterdome, right in front of the metal canteen doors, Wonwoo kisses Soonyoung. 

They enter together.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! if you've read my other fics, you know i tend to write pretty fluffy lighthearted romance, so i was super nervous while writing this fic. i hope you enjoyed it and i would love to know your thoughts! 
> 
> as always, some random notes...:
> 
>   * in canon, solo piloting is possible, but it's a huge risk and the possibility of death is higher than success. chan is, simply put, very amazing. he also did something extremely risky.
>   * when they say that your co-pilot has access to all your memories and thoughts, they mean _all_. chan had to put up with soonyoung's thoughts...explicit or otherwise....about wonwoo all these years. and then, um, it worsens after soonyoung and wonwoo actually get together.
>   * i'm sorry for naming a kaiju "geguri" i promise it's not intended to be a self-insert cameo jsdfjsdf. geguri just means frog and i couldn't think of another name lmao ;;
>   * i've been wanting to write a story about 知音 for a long, long time. it's only a small section here, but i'm glad i could finally write it in!
>   * i wanted to write a bit of a love story to hong kong here but they never actually go outside, so it didn't quite happen...but jun mentions a beef brisket noodle restaurant. he's referring to "supreme beef brisket soup" in yau ma tei, a place i have very fond and dear memories of. google tells me it has now permanently closed. i last went at the end of 2019...ah...;;
> 

> 
> lastly, thank you to ariana for helping me choose seokhan's jaeger name! and a big, big thank you to avery for helping me proofread this fic, and to cat for reading an "advanced copy" and reaffirming some of my worries and doubts!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/tofufiower) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/lgbtksoo)


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